The Art of Meddling
by xtwilightzx
Summary: Despite preaching the laws of hitsuzen and the like, Yuuko didn’t mind nudging fate in a more favorable direction if it was within her means to do so. [DoumekiWatanuki, implied ClowYuuko]


**Title: The Art of Meddling**

Despite preaching the laws of _hitsuzen_ and the like, Yuuko didn't mind nudging fate in a more favorable direction if it was within her means to do so.

**AN: **Written based on the key phrases "sudden rainfall in summer" and "infuriatingly irritating yet addicting" for Emi-chan.** Spoilers for up to at least manga chapter 92. **This fic might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read up to there. I had a lot of fun writing Yuuko, although I had problems grasping xxxHolic's immensely complex characters. I hope I managed to stay in character :)

_**xxxHoLiC belongs to the brilliance that is CLAMP. **_

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Yuuko had always lived a life of multiple facets, winging from a sickeningly cheerful alcoholic to a responsible shopkeeper to a solemn master of magic with the ease of a well strung pendulum ball. There were certain traits that each persona possessed uniquely, but there were some things Yuuko liked to do no matter what situation she was in.

Sometimes, Yuuko just liked to meddle. Someone had once taught her that meddling could be incredibly fun, the adrenaline rush of tipping the scales dangerously to one side combined with the mischievous sadistic pleasure meddling evoked often resulting in surprisingly pleasant conclusions.

Despite preaching the laws of _hitsuzen_ and the like, Yuuko didn't mind nudging fate in a more favorable direction if it was within her means to do so. Some things, she knew, required a little push in the right direction to start the ball rolling, and she would be damned if she allowed two souls to slip by each other when they were so obviously perfect (at least, in her eyes). Some people weren't meant to be, but just _were_ anyway, despite it all. Fate can be overrated sometimes.

Happy beginnings can lead to happy endings, after all and they were always better than no beginnings at all. Yuuko liked to think that she could help.

Or perhaps she just liked meddling. And all its correlated actions: teasing, jabbing, prying, questioning…

-----

It was pouring, another one of those intermittent summer storms that came without warning and was often accompanied with brilliant flashes of lightning. Although the violent glum of the storm was mostly over, it still drizzled lingeringly, shedding a fine mist over everything. It was the kind of evening that Yuuko liked spending selfishly according to whatever fancy that struck her at the moment, and unless it was pre-scheduled or an emergency, she kept her well-worded lessons and "business" transactions strictly tucked away.

Having fought his way through the insistent downpour to supply Yuuko with her sudden (and erratic) craving for sweet white wine, cranberries and cream, Watanuki had holed himself up in the kitchen, whipping up some chocolaty concoction and ranting about the general injustice and grievances the world had _dared_ send his way.

Yuuko just hoped his words didn't poison the confection to leave a bitter aftertaste in the mouth. Such things have been known to happen, although it was unlikely in this case – Watanuki's tone lacked the acerbic tang of true bitterness, and his words were hidden feelings just shabbily disguised.

Dressed in a light yukata, the wild wind finding its way to tease the long locks that had been left flowing freely around her shoulders, Yuuko lounged under her veranda like some stereotypical moon priestess. Instead of being in a meditative trance, however, Yuuko's concentration was deep in her wine glass, the liquid warmth the alcohol gave her tingling at her fingertips like the allure of magic.

She listened with half an ear to Watanuki's running commentary, which to her count, included three curses against the rain for drenching the day in slow lethargy, five mentions of how adorable Himawari-chan was in her cute raingear (which included adorably wellington boots and a bunny shaped umbrella) and no less than _nine_ rants, complains and insults about Doumeki, that _conceit_, _stubborn ass of idiot_.

For someone who claimed to be head over heels over Himawari-chan and hated Doumeki-kun with a special passion, the ratio seemed _just_ a little off to Yuuko.

Mokona was having a ball in the kitchen, punctuating the rise and fall of Watanuki's voice with high pitched comments and being a general nuisance in Watanuki's already irritated life. It finally crossed the thin line between "annoyed-as-hell Watanuki" and "annoyed-and-pissed as hell Watanuki" when it successfully swallowed half of Watanuki's chocolate batter with a huge squeal and satisfied sigh of content before being plucked up by its long ears and shoved ungraciously into the oven by the aforementioned (and extremely irate) cook.

"That terrible excuse for a black annoying plushie toy! It's almost as irritating as _him_!" Watanuki snarled as he came out of the kitchen with the saved remnants of his dessert, identifying _him_ by stabbing a finger towards the freshly cleaned bento box he used to carry the lunches he made for Doumeki and himself everyday.

_That makes one for Mokona, three for the rain, five for Himawari-chan and _ten_ for Doumeki-kun_, Yuuko tallied mentally, before smiling winsomely up at the boy. "But I'm still getting my chocolate pudding for dessert, right?"

"The infernal rain," Watanuki muttered darkly. "If it wasn't for this infernal rain, I would have been able to escape, and than I wouldn't be stuck here doing battle against black-bunny ears trying to steal _my_ chocolate. In fact, I wouldn't be making chocolate _at all_, since I would have been at home safely away from you and most importantly,the beast known as Mokona."

"You'd have to drop by the shop at some point, seeing as you haven't worked off your debt," Yuuko pointed out, sweeping one finger into the bowl of cream and licking it off with an ecstatic smile.

"But I wouldn't be here now."

"Hush, Watanuki. I'm trying to enjoy the rain. While you might hate and curse it, it's a relaxing sight." Yuuko breathed in deep. "And at least you didn't have to walk home with Doumeki-kun, right? After all the complaints you've voiced, I thought you would be happy for a respite. The rain wouldn't have made it a very pleasant journey either way."

"Maybe." Watanuki grumbled.

Silence – save for the wind and rain – reigned for a long moment before Yuuko broke it.

"Infuriatingly irritating yet addicting, right?" she said with a cat-like smile.

"Indeed he is!" Watanuki fumed, snapping out of his frozen tableau and gesticulating so wildly that the spatula he held almost flew a wide trajectory for the wall. "The gall of the man, always expecting me to cook up bentos for him, and not one word of thanks for the _great_ Watanuki-sama, espe – wait. Wait, addicting?"

"I was talking about the rain. You didn't think I was talking about Doumeki-kun, were you?" Yuuko dipped her wine glass in a slight toast in the direction the open sliding doors, which framed a truly beautiful scene. Moonlight split through a minute gap in the dark clouds, dyeing the raindrops into silvery lines of thread falling towards the earth as the soft tingle of rain striking the slated roof played a charming melody in the background.

She wondered for a moment if the little lightning-elemental would make his appearance tonight, but decided that tonight's rain-dance was too delicate and ill-suited for his visit.

No matter. At the moment her indentured servant was spluttering in the background, choking on his own words and just ripe for another session of teasing and jabbing. It was so easy to rub Watanuki's fur the wrong way and the fireworks that ensued could rival the lightning-firework display of the lightning-elemental.

"Why. Would. I. Think. Of. Him. ANYWAY?" Watanuki roared, finally grasping the first coherent words to come to him and blasting them out of his mouth.

"Oh I can see Doumeki-kun's appeal factor," Yuuko mused, chiseled finger poised thoughtfully against one cheek. "Those smoldering eyes and that deep determination that can just shallow you in. And those cheekbones – so delicate. Definitely addictive." She arched an eyebrow at Watanuki. The young man had turned a pale shade of blue. "I think the 'infuriatingly irritating' part only applies to you. Otherwise, he's positively…"

Watanuki had turned a deep purple by now. That color couldn't be too healthy.

"_Yummy_."

Watanuki let out a high-pitched, half-strangled scream, which was promptly drowned out by Maru and Moro chiming in.

"Yummy!"

"Yummy!"

"Stop with the echo!"

"And addictive. Or should we say, for Watanuki-kun's benefit, sexy?"

"Addictive!"

"And sexy! ♥

"Who would love such an idiotic guy!"

Yuuko's smile turned positively evil, pointed teeth and gleaming eyes inclusive. "No one said anything about love, Watanuki-kun."

Who would have thought watching Watanuki gap like a landed-fish would be so amusing, Yuuko wondered fondly.

"You're on the right track, however. Don't they say, _the way to a man's heart is through his stomach_? I'd disagree, of course, but against all logic and purposes, it seems to work. Although Doumeki-kun seems to be holding out against it. Oh well!" Yuuko said cheerily, "Playing hard to get is the best way to tantalize a potential lover!" Behind her, Maru and Moro bent their arms against each other, a tableau with the heart sign formed between them.

"Lover!"

"Lover!"

"Yuuko-san! That's not funny!" Watanuki huffed, finally deciding to just ignore everyone and working on his dessert instead.

"He's all alone in his house too, probably pouring over some obscure text. Brooding, most likely, because you managed to take his textbook home and squinting with that eye and a half he possesses."

The stirring noise slowed to a stop, Watanuki's eyes darkening rapidly to pure obsidian. Quietly, as if unaware of his own actions, his hand rose to touch his right eye, long fingers framing the orb with its barely perceptible sheen.

Strange how moonlight brought out the most minute details.

"Yes," he murmured, "he would be doing that." The dark head dipped slightly before Watanuki returned his attention to his batter, stirring single-mindedly with more fervor than it warranted and with a slight tremble to his movements.

For once, Watanuki didn't roar or rage at the mention of his fellow classmate.

Abruptly, Yuuko swung the teasing onto another tangent. "Maru, Moro! Help Watanuki on his way." As the two girls leaped forward in jubilant obedience, Yuuko smiled winsomely at her servant and spoke just loud enough to be heard over Watanuki's protests. "You, my dear," she announced, "are going. Home, somewhere, anywhere. Basically, you're dismissed. For the day only, of course," she added prudently.

Watanuki was half pushed out the door by Maru and Moro before he manage to throw a comment over his shoulder. "What, no requests for bathes, no supper, no clamor for sake or some other obscure alcoholic drink? You're going to let go home _this_ early? Without even finishing the dessert?"

The bright, teasing smile that sat so well on Yuuko's face mellowed into something more melancholic, more hidden. She gestured discreetly and Maru and Moro peeled off, disappearing to complete some silent assignment of theirs.

"Watanuki-kun," she asked, eyes dark and intent, "don't you have somewhere else that you want to be?"

"Huh? Not particularly; Yuuko-san, you know there's no one waiting for me at home, so I can-"

"No," she cut him off, "not where you need to be. I asked if there was a place you _wanted _to be. A place where someone special, someone who has taken your life and shaken it apart to the roots is."

Watanuki stared at her, confusion dancing in his expression.

"Listen. What do you hear?"

Eyes flickering around him, Watanuki strained for a long moment before admitting, "All I hear is what's always been there – the sound of rain."

Yuuko nodded. "The rain. It's sacred. Why else would so many spirits be tied to rain and all it brings? The rain is life; it cleanses and washes away the stains of earth, and a sudden, unexpected rainfall in summer symbolizes Nature's benevolence and generosity."

"What does this have to do with being where I want to be?"

"So young." _So inexperienced_. "Aren't revelations and unions – even simply being in a loved one's presence – best made on such nights that have been blessed by nature itself?" Standing up in one fluid moment, Yuuko turned to face Watanuki squarely, the silvery moon just visible behind her shoulder. "Especially on this night. The moon, especially."

With the strange insight he had gained ever since losing his eye – and regaining half of Doumeki's – Watanuki caught her meaning.

"It's a potent source of magic, isn't it?"

She nodded and held up on hand idly. Beyond her, Watanuki's eyes widen before they blinked into slits and Yuuko knew a pool of moonlight had amassed in the circle of her palm.

"It's the night of the full moon. It's the best time for rituals – divination, for protection, of prophecy. It's excess magic – the air's practically brimming full of it." As if echoing her words, the pool of moonlight trickled its way down her skin until she was bathed with it, glowing briefly with its slight flare. She luxuriated in its touch for a brief moment, feeling the small hollow memories had etched in her swept away with the rush of sublime magic. A brief smile lighted her lips.

"It's also a time for love, knowledge and dreams." Resolutely, Yuuko walked to stand before Watanuki, who was still kneeling with the abandoned stirring pot beside him, looking like a warrior about to be knighted by his queen.

Gently, because she knew he was still adjusting to the strangeness of foreign eyesight, Yuuko brushed light fingers around Watanuki's right eye, over the eyelid as his eyes fluttered shut from the touch.

"How do you feel, receiving this priceless gift from _him_, knowing that he willingly sacrificed his eye for you, and knowing that you have done the same?" she asked, as solemn a question as she had ever laid before her young servant, protégé…

… and yes. A beloved companion, silly and naïve though Kimihiro Watanuki may be.

"He sees what you see at times, his life overlaying yours… and that shared sacrifice you and he made together is surely as binding as thin gold thread."

Even in the shade of the veranda, even as the storm's rain invariably shadowed the moon, Yuuko couldn't miss the flash of _anger/denial/confusion_ that danced across Watanuki's eyes. She could almost hear him draw air, almost hear his mind form the thought _who would what to be connected to _himbefore he expelled it in one violent breathe.

A reflex action, like a child who claimed he hated strawberries for years without ever tasting the bright-red berry, only to find the taste most palatable on the tongue after inadvertently eating one. Watanuki would allow habit to overtake the new perceptions that he had been too stubborn to acknowledge simply because habit was the simpler option.

Much, much easier than forging a new path, to expose oneself to unmerciful change.

Snapping one finger against his lips before the words could quite escape, she could only say, "And for once in your life, Watanuki, please just _think_ before you speak. Think, and remember."

Watanuki snapped shut his mouth with an audible _click_, discomfit written clearly across his face as unwanted memories – and unwanted conclusions – surfaced.

Yuuko studied him carefully, bringing to bear all her experiences and innate intuition. She read that same perplexity in the way his fingers fiddled subconsciously with the spatula still clutched in his hands, a small lingering spark of anger in the stiffness of his back, and a flower of recognition slowly blooming in the depths of his eyes. Empathy was its own brand of magic, one that Yuuko had learned to use with ease.

She backed away discreetly, granting the young man space and watched his head dip with resignation.

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked in a low voice, just audible in the background of rain. "It's changed; we still argue and I still hate him but it's different. There's a different _air_ to it, like we go through the motions of what's normal, except there's always this underlying secret hovering between us. Because of what happened. Because of _this._"

Watanuki's hand rose to cover his right eye – half of Doumeki's right eye.

"And sometimes we see through each other's eyes – flashes, little snapshots, just enough so the context can be determined." He swallowed thickly. "And he told me he saw the lightning fireworks – the ones the lightning elemental evoked as it left. He said it was beautiful – and that he enjoyed it."

"I don't know what this all means," Watanuki's voice took on the edge of desperation. "It's like never quite being alone, Yuuko-san and _I don't understand_."

"Perhaps, Watanuki, you could go find out," Yuuko replied softly. She wondered if Doumeki was catching any glimpse of this conversation, and what he thought of her moonlit image as seen through Watanuki's eyes if he did.

"Oh, just drift into his house in the midst of a storm and start up another argument like two actors following a predetermined script?" Watanuki laughed raggedly, lacking all the usual scorn that talking about Doumeki invoked in his voice, and that, more than anything else, clued Yuuko in to how great a toll the events of the past few weeks had taken on the young man's mentality. "That will go well, I can tell."

"You do have a perfect excuse," Yuuko pointed out, waving towards Doumeki's textbook, lying innocuously in sight. "And the rain will give you a reason to stay and sort out this issue with him."

Watanuki balked. "And he won't find it strange at all? I don't even know if he thinks anything has changed." But obediently, Watanuki shed his apron and bundled up in a warm coat, collecting the textbook. Circumstances were sweeping him along and he could only follow the current and hope to emerge relatively unscathed.

Yuuko's eyes glinted. "Trust me," she said dryly. "Doumeki-kun's much, much more perceptive than you are. He knows. And he's merely biding his time, going through things logically and waiting for _you_ to make the next move."

"Eh?"

"So go, before it's too late."

The words stopped Watanuki in his tracks, and he peered at Yuuko curiously over his shoulder.

Yuuko shook her head. "Unlike me, you _know_," she said. "You two have had too many close calls given how recently you started working together. At least you now know, and you can take steps and _do_ something about it."

Watanuki's eyes widened rapidly as he caught her meaning, understood what she was hinting at.

"I'll make pudding for dessert again tomorrow," he said wryly, "and maybe fondue, so perhaps you won't charge me too much for this lesson."

"If you bring sake," Yuuko told him, "I'll consider the debt paid." _Because I cannot charge for a lesson I myself had to be taught, far too late_, she silently added and she knew Watanuki, with his new perceptions, read it from her eyes.

She watched Watanuki's dark form disappear beyond the gates into the misty night, and prayed that he would have the sense to confront things for once, and that his road would prove cheerier than hers.

There was nothing else she could do. Only Watanuki could create his own fate now.

With nothing better to do, Yuuko returned to her previous activities, staring out at her night scene and just thinking. Nights like these, after all, always made her nostalgic. The circumstances were similar enough to evoke memories that she had long tucked into a private corner of her heart.

"He always did have a secret obsession with moonlight, even if the sun was his key symbol," Yuuko muttered softly to herself, tipping herself more wine and raising her wineglass in a toast towards the silvery round orb.

She could hear windchimes tingling softly, the crisp scent of cold water and the sharp tangle of unrestrained magic brimming in the air. She remembered a cat-like smile that was soft, sunny and enigmatic all at once, a strangely alluring aura of tempered power that he wore like a soft worn coat and that she basked in, ecstatic in the knowledge that there was one other like her, with his astounding magic and the ability to meddle with everything under the sun and moon, even with cute little girl cardcaptors and young wolf-cub boys so far in the future. He was _the_ master meddler; had nurtured her love of it, and sometimes she wished someone else had interfered in _their_ lives.

"It was raining the night he died too," she told the moon, and she remembered receiving a simple but beautifully handcrafted pendant – a black and white ivory butterfly - while sipping fine white wine on a night just like this and she knew. He had always been so open with all his plans and pet-projects, from the creation of his guardians to the silly wand and staff designs he seemed to enjoy sketching. This time, Yuuko knew why he had chosen to go this way, silent and without warning. Clow, after all, loved doing things the roundabout way, in riddles and hints that never pointed to direct truth, and this was his way of acknowledging her, a truth wrapped without words that she herself never realized until it was too late.

Yuuko leaned back against the tatami mats, dark hair verily absorbing the moonlight, and allowed the wind and rain to caress her face.

end

**_Reviews are always much beloved._**


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